Never Alone
by Ella O'hara
Summary: When Erik returns to the opera house after leaving, he finds tha tChristine is in dire need of his help. Much smoochez. From Christine and Erik's viewpoint. please, please,please review. this iz my first story. not raoul-friendly. you've been warned! hope


_Clang! Clang! Clang! _The steam train chugged to a halt in the station, releasing a choking cloud of smoke. The roar produced by the human beehive of activity drowned out that of the train itself, increasing the din ever more. As the crowd let out of the cars, I peered out the window, clutching my cloak tightly. A single red rose lay in my lap, along with a small suitcase filled with the bare necessities. I fingered the rose's petals gently, caressing each one individually. The conductor came striding down the isle, calling that all passengers should vacate, lest they end up in Munich.

As I pushed my way through the throng, I received many strange looks. I know it isn't particularly acceptable to wear a mask in public, but it is much better than the alternative. Trust me.

When I reached the exit, the deluge of rain soaked my attire entirely within moments. My horse, Cesar, nickered impatiently as I led him out into the rain. After seven months of sitting in a cramped rental stall, I believe that he would have gladly bolted through the streets of Paris. Guiding him into the cobblestone streets, I began my journey home.

As the sights of a thoroughly drenched city, howled past, I began to wonder if this was such a good idea, going home. God knows that I'm not welcome there. I'm sure that they rejoiced after the _Époque _so incorrectly informed them of my death many months back. Well, I am certainly not dead, but I somewhat wish that I was. Since Christine had chosen Raoul over myself, I have been rather embarrassed. Such childlike behavior! I swear, with God as my witness, that I will never try to see either of them again as long as I live.

With the spires of the Opera Populaire coming into view, I felt my stomach drop into my legs. Cesar seemed happy to see the old place, flicking his ears excitedly. It must not have been Gala night, for there were no carriages and the gas laps out front were extinguished. I dismounted the horse, leading him into the back, where, if I recall correctly, Rue Scribe lay. " Three up from the ground, five from the corner…" The breathed as I tried to recall the stone that opened the passageway. A loud thud sounded. " Eureka." My dark eyes widened as the darkness that is my home opened up before me. Stepping into the blackness before me, I took a deep, shuddering breath. With Cesar close behind, I left the gray dreariness of that world behind. I was home.

Although it was a bit dustier than I left it, my house was just exactly what I had been missing as I had waited out my humiliation in Spain. Rats cried out from behind tapestries, while spiders scuttled to find new hiding places. " Oh," I sighed as I lay eyes on one wall. "My organ." The monolithic instrument had been my only friend earlier in life, and I suppose it was back to the way it was. Dropping my suitcase, I picked up another familiar item. My Punjab lasso. In spite of myself, I grinned. Good times, I though wickedly, good times. As I studied the red rose once more, I decided that it was time to reclaim what had been lost.

" Miss Daae, will you _please_?" The maestro shouted from his podium in front of the orchestra pit. Onlookers stared in horror from all places on the stage. A couple of the chorus girls actually stopped dancing to watch the revulsion. Sweat was pouring torrentially from the nape of my neck, soaking my bodice thoroughly. I could hear my voice fluctuating miserably, the notes horribly mangled. Finally I just stopped my song and fled the stage. Never had I sounded so awful. _God must be punishing me, _I mused, _for I had scorned one of his angels. _ A few moments later, my multitude of supporters pushed me back onto the stage. I was lucky that it was only a rehearsal. Paris would have jeered forevermore.

Stalking silently through the passageways, my passageways, I felt a sense of power once more. This was my domain, and I was the master. Hearing a rush of human activity to my left, I pressed my ear against the wall. There must have been a rehearsal occurring. With excitement coursing through my veins, I made a beeline for the catwalks. Even though I had not been home for a day yet, I anticipated falling back into the rhythm of the opera life.

Silently, I walked out onto the catwalk. This was so natural to me, like walking down the street. Those with vertigo would have had died on the spot, but who had heard of a specter that was afraid of heights? Chorus girls rushed about below me, running after some young woman as fast as their little pink legs would carry them. Carlotta had probably up and made a scene again. I had not forgotten the spoiled Spanish diva. I had not been able to have that pleasure yet.

The crowd beneath me swelled once again and a young woman was pushed into the limelight. I gasped silently. It was Christine. She had tears silently pouring down her face. Against my wishes, I felt my heart go out to her. No matter how hard I'd tried, I had never forgotten her. I stood frozen with the red rose in my hand, waiting for something to happen. The conductor yelled German profanities at the poor girl and, weakly, she began to sing. Had I not been paralyzed with terror, my hands would have flown to my ears immediately. The girl had obviously forgotten everything that I had taught her. As little Meg Giry so accurately described it, she sang much like a carrion crow.

She tried to hit her high notes, and my head was aching something awful. When she croaked a particularly fetid note, I accidentally dropped my rose. " Oh, hell." I cursed, just a bit too loud. All the eyes on stage flew up to my spot on the catwalk, and, for once, I was out of ideas.

As I tried bleakly to finish my solo, a strange thing happened. A single red rose, tied with a black silk ribbon, fell from above, hitting me on the head. I picked up the mysterious item, examining it. " Oh, hell." A deep, velvety baritone suddenly issued from above. I knew that voice. All of us on the stage glanced upward. I gasped. A figure, clad in jet black, stared back at us. At first I just thought that it was simply a clumsy prop manager, but then the white domino mask gave the truth away. A collective gasp then issued from the throng. Meg Giry, my best friend, began to say, "He's here, the Pha-" I clapped my hand over her mouth abruptly. I had heard her little serenade of his presence too many times before. I clutched the rose tightly against my bosom, almost fearing to loosen my grip on it. In that very long moment, the thorns had stabbed my palm, blood now flowing freely over my hand.

Hundreds of eyes stared at me for what must have been the longest moment in history. I could not bring myself to look at Christine. Without a better plan, I fled. Uproar followed me, rising like a swarm of angry hornets. When I had made it back to my domain underground, I was clear out of breath. Cursing myself, I sat at my organ, slumping over the ivory keys. My mask slid off, revealing the monster that hibernated beneath. The broken mirrors leered at me in the eeriest way that an inanimate object could. Reclaiming my hold, I gazed around my surroundings. The darkness, not unlike that of hell, was where I, a monster, belonged.

After seeing that dark figure on the catwalks, I felt a dreamy sort of confusion settle over my mind. He was here. My angel had not abandoned me, as I had abandoned him. Although Raoul was a good, passive husband, he was certainly no romantic. Every day was routine, boring. I hardly ever set foot in the house, for I knew an evening of silence and awkwardness would await me there. Meg and Madame Giry had sheltered me in the dormitories after hearing my plight. Like the sister and mother that I never knew, they understood me. Deep in my soul, I somewhat wished that I had never married the Count De Chagney.

As the uproar continued after the so-called ghost, Meg ushered me back to my dressing room, as one would a bewildered child. She locked the door behind us, shutting out any nosy people with questions. We soon heard the managers banging on the door, demanding to know what the hell was going on. Firmin persisted, rapping the door with his cane smartly. Andre, however, made a total fool of himself, yelling at the top of his lungs. Meg did not open the door. " You will be safe here, Christine," She murmured soothingly, stoking my hand, " He will not find you here." At this she left me alone to my thoughts, gently shutting the door behind her. It was strange. I actually wanted Phantom to find me here. Holding my head in my hands, I began to weep softly. Raoul would be here soon, coming after he heard the news of the phantom's return.

Suddenly, something rather peculiar caught my eye. Strangely, my dressing mirror had receded from its left pane, creating a small gap in the wall. Inspecting the hole, I found that the mirror slid open more. From the inside, I could see my dressing room. I suddenly felt ashamed and violated. Somebody had been watching me dress for God knows how long! Letting the thought pass, I cautiously began my passage down the blood-curdling corridor, waiting to see what, or who, I would find.

Gathering my wits, I stood up, put my mask back on, and dressed n my finest eveningwear. I was going to pay Madame Giry a little visit. The woman had been my first friend, and she was the only one, with the exception of Christine, that I respected in this whole opera house. Turning the gas lamps down to a dim glow, I set off to find the elder Miss Giry.

The dank walls of the passageway were covered with cobwebs and mildew, giving the place an aura that a graveyard would usually possess. Blood pounded loudly in my ears. From all directions, I could hear the incessant squeaking of mice and rats. I had no idea who could possibly live in such a horrid place. Then I remembered, _oh yes, I did_.

With my eyes adjusted to the darkness once more, I could come and go in the blackest of moments without a lantern. The maze of corridors that lay ahead of me was pitch black, but I did not mind. Was I not the creature of darkness?

Tears pricked my eyes now, for I feared that I was lost. Every hallway looked exactly like the next, and the one before it. I gave a silent scream, for a passel of rats were at my feet, chewing away at the hem of my dress. Then, looming out of the darkness, a dark figure stood not a yard away from me. With a trembling hand, I touched the man's shoulder.

Feeling at ease with the building again, I turned a corner, which I knew was the way to Madame Giry's studio. Suddenly a hand lay on my shoulder. My rapier was out and brandished at whomever was behind me. I found the tip of my blade aimed at the throat of the Countess De Chagney.

I cried out as the figure whirled around, finding his sword pointed at my neck. The blade of the weapon glimmered in the light from the sparks emitting from the beholder's eyes. A long moment passed, until the man finally hissed, "_Christine!" _

Giving an inward sigh of relief, I stowed my sword and turned back to the frightened woman. She looked as if she'd seen a ghost. Ha. I was supposed to be a ghost, going about, frightening people, and I had done just that. I hissed her name, shaking my head as to inquire why she was here. Wiping tears from her lovely brown eyes, she said, " I-I found a passageway in my dressing room. I tried to follow it, but got lost." Oops. She found my watching post, and for once, I blushed, embarrassed. " We saw you tonight." She raised he eyebrow, as one would do while questioning a naughty child. " Ah, yes. My public awaits anxiously, I suppose." She smiled her dazzling smile. "Yes. They thought you were dead." An awkward moment passed. "Ah."

His dark eyes gazed at me from behind his white porcelain mask. They still burned with the same intensity and despair that they always had. I wanted nothing more than to kiss him again, right there, but my senses warned me. He was probably still hurt about that ordeal so many months ago. " I think God is punishing me," I suddenly said, repeating the line from memory, " I did something to one of his angels that I shouldn't have done." He looked slightly taken aback at this. "Let's talk," he said anxiously, his eyes darting all about the corridors, "But let's go somewhere else." Quickly, he gently took me by the hand and led me out of the darkness, back into the light namely my dressing room.

I took her back to her dressing room, lighting the lamps only enough to see her more clearly. She nervously played with a lock of her hair as I bolted the door. I sat down opposite her, putting my fingers together in a businesslike manner. Her eyes lingered on my mask. " What's your name?" She asked timidly. This question surprised me. For a moment, I actually could not remember my own name. For so long, I had been the angel of music, Phantom, or my personal favorite, " that damn specter!" My mother had not bothered to name me. I was sold to that traveling circus before I could speak, remaining in that hellhole until I was eight. Daroga had called a name, a name that I had taken by accident. " Erik." She seemed to ponder over this. "Erik," she sighed dreamily, her eyes lighting up. That spiteful little voice that resided in the back of my head began to stir to life. _You know, _it said, _she ran off with that Vicomte whelk. _Ah. I had forgotten that nasty little detail. " How is, er, Raoul?" I said with difficulty, trying my hardest to keep the bitterness out of my voiceTears suddenly spilled from her eyes, alarming me.

I tried to control my sobs as best I could. Erik looked lost, clumsily trying to comfort me. He took me into his arms, stroking my head tenderly. " H-he's alright." I could not let him know that I had made the entirely wrong choice. At least not right away.

Her comment hurt me a bit, but I continued to hold her until she had curbed her cries. I never wanted to let go. The mere touch of her sent electricity though my body. Before she could say anything else, I lifted her chin and gazed into her eyes. " I have come back to help you, mademoiselle. You angel will never leave you." I handed her the red rose that was stowed in my breast pocket. She fingered its petals. " Have you, er, shirked your voice practices?" I wanted to help her in the worst way. The voice that I hade given her had vanished, replaced with a weak, silly, stupid one.

At hearing this question, I knew what he was going to say. I nodded a bit, lowering my gaze. Erik abruptly stood up, taking both my hands in his. " Christine, I want to assist you. I have made your voice burn pure and hot before, I can do it again!" I smiled my most charming smile. Wordlessly, I agreed and he kissed me lightly on the cheek. And before I could say anything else, my phantom was gone.

For the next week, I visited Christine's chamber every night to give her her lesson. And every night, I left wondering how one man could be so happy. That was simple. Being around the one I loved made me happy. Although I knew she belonged to Raoul, I treated her in my most courting manner. Who cared? Christine's voice was already sounding as it once had, and a certain specter was very, very glad. What had we to lose?

One night, when I was making my visit to Christine's dressing room, I tucked a bouquet of my finest red roses into my cloak. Even though I had grown used to this routine, I was still a bit edgy. After all, one wrong motion or word, and we would be back to the whole nine months ago debacle. That was something I could live without.

_The girl, she thinks, she wonders calmly_

_"Where is my dear angel?"_

I heard his voice all around me. I smiled. He knew I liked this. His deep, rich voice filled my soul, sending me into a euphoric ecstasy. I answered this time in my good voice

_I know my angel, he lives inside me_

_Keeper of my heartstrings_

Erik suddenly appeared behind me, running his hands gently down my throat. Surprisingly, his touch seared my thoughts like arrow fire. I was completely at his will. We sang together, two souls as one:

_Angel of music,_

_Friend and phantom_

_Stay with me, strange angel!_

With our duet through, we withdrew his touch and produced a beautiful bouquet of blood-red roses. They were tied with his signature black silk ribbon. We locked eyes for a brief second, but then tore our gazes away. We were here for a music lesson, not tender love.

Christine set the bouquet in a mother-of-pearl vase, setting them by her bedside. She looked so beautiful. I gave myself a little shake. I had not come here for_ this_. "Right then" I said a bit abruptly, purposely shattering the mood, "Let's get on with the lesson."

" We'll start with the scales. Go on." I bobbed my head for emphasis. She began to sing. Her voice was not what it had been a moment ago. It was back to the way it was during the rehearsal. I stole up behind her, gently lifting her chin. The sound immediately improved. It seemed that she sang better when she had my spiritual motivation. I cautiously moved my hands from her neck to her hips. She closed her eyes in bliss. Her voice was beginning to sound beautiful again. We rocked together as she sang some unknown melody, one I had never heard the likes of before. I lifted one of her milky white hands to my good cheek. This seemed so familiar.

When he reached down to touch my waist, I thought I would die of shock. How could one man affect a girl like this? It was almost as if by magic. I sang the song that my father had taught me long ago. To my surprise, Erik joined in.

There was light in my soul 

_When I first learned your name_

_On that night when I first laid_

_My eyes on you_

_And that time when I first earned you love_

_I knew I'd do, whatever I'd have to do._

I felt tears sting my eyes. It had been years since I had felt this alive. Erik's presence touched every fiber of by being. Turning my head slowly, we faced. I noticed a glimmer of eardrop on his mask, and I wiped it away. In that moment frozen in time, I kissed him more passionately that I'd ever kissed anybody else. It would have scalded every hair off Raoul's head. It would have made his toes curl in agony. I then pushed all thoughts of Raoul from my mind. He could go hang himself for all I care now. All I wanted was Erik, my phantom. I regretted that it had taken me so long to know this.

When Christine's lips first touched mine, I felt an enormous electric shock pound through my system. Ah, life was certainly a beautiful thing now! Although I had never intended to do this, I never lamented it. Christine moaned as my hand slid down her outer calf. We had no boundaries now.

The candlelight then did something rather odd. It cast three silhouettes instead of two embracing ones. My lips abruptly parted with hers, whirling around to face the fire in the eyes in the enraged Vicomte De Chagney.

I was too stunned to respond. Had he been there the whole time, watching Erik and I kiss? Judging by his shaking with unnamable fury, I'd say he was. Raoul stood silent for a moment, and then roared, " How could you?" Erik still looked thoroughly shell-shocked, his eyes wide beneath his mask. Then without warning, the enraged Vicomte struck me hard. I fell hard against my vanity table, tasting salty blood in my mouth. "Raoul! Stop it!" I cried, feeling a bruise swell on my jaw. He kept coming at me, a heavy candlebra in hand. I knew he had every intention of hitting me with it. A Frenchman didn't take this kind of humiliation or betrayal sitting down. In a split second, Erik had drawn his rapier, pointing it at Raoul's throat. The man stopped dead in his tracks. " Now you listen here you damn ghost," He spoke with a slur, as if he's been drinking. " I will not have you seducing my wife!" he spat the word "wife" as if it were some sort of disgusting curse word.

My gaze never left that man's. My arm was poised to stab, should he attempt to harm Christine again. My mask had never felt so uncomfortable. " Get out." I growled, malice dripping from my voice. "I swear to God I will kill you if you so much as touch Christine again." The Vicomte then raised his candlebra high over his head. Christine balked. Then Raoul hit himself over the head with the weapon, falling to the ground, unconscious.

I stood, up, running to Raoul's side. If I was not mistaken, he had just tried to kill himself. Luckily, he still had a pulse. Accusation of murder was not an experience to be relished. Erik dropped his blade, running to me. " Christine, are you alright?" He held my chin, inspecting my wound. He gasped. I looked in the mirror. Blood was flowing from my lip and mouth, giving me a horrific appearance. Erik removed his cape, wiping away the blood as best he could. He held me, and I held him. I could never go out into public again. Raoul had dozens upon hundreds of friends and accomplices, all waiting to pounce should I ever show myself again. Suddenly, a sound of many fists began pounding on my door. " The phantom is in there, don't let him get away!" somebody shouted, others rallying the idea. " Christine! Erik! Run!" I heard Meg call to me. Without a word, Erik picked up a chair and smashed through a large concealed painting of Carlotta. I thought he was just upset at his plight. But then, out of the solid wall, a passageway appeared.

" Hurry, Christine!" I called, leading her through the portal. The mob was now yelling something I couldn't hear, but the door was beginning to splinter. When she had successfully gotten through, I let the curtain slide back over the hole, casting us into darkness. I knew she couldn't see, but every detail of the hall stood out to me. She held me close, crying softly. When we came back into the light, I stood frozen. " Oh, my God." The mob stood before me, their eyes narrow like cats'. Suddenly, they all tackled me, forcing me to the ground. Christine screamed. She was led in the opposite direction, while I was tied up. "Yes! We finally caught that damn ghost!" Firmin and Andre strutted out of the crowd. Firmin poked me with his cane, both of them roaring with laughter. " Christine!" I cried through my gag. She called back, although I couldn't hear what she said.

Within minutes, I was forced into a small, dank room, thrown roughly to the floor. I strained against my cords, snapping a few in the process. Like my friend Daroga told you, weak men do not clamber up ropes with ninety pound girls slung over their shoulders. I am not a physically weak man. However, they buried my limbs in gigantic sandbags, making it impossible to move. I screamed loudly through my disgusting rag, making as much fuss as possible. A boot struck me in the jaw. I tasted my own blood." Ah, shut up, you great stupid haunt." A man with an Irish accent sneered at me, "Nobody can save you now. The only way out is the gallows tomorrow morning." My eyes widened visibly in fear. Was this going to be the way the Phantom of the Opera made his grand exit? Strung up like some common criminal? Thinking of Christine, I broke down and wept.

"Let go of me!" I cried as I was forced into my dressing room. The mob slammed the door, bolting it from the outside. I knew the passage in the painting was probably being guarded, so I struggled to find an alternate way out. I banged my tiny fists against the walls, the paintings, and anything else that looked remotely promising. I knew that they had every intention of killing Erik, so I doubled my efforts. If he was to die, than I was to die also.

The door suddenly creaked open, and Raoul stepped through the threshold. He was quite ruddy in the face, the sign of even more alcohol intake. "Bonjour, Christine." He murmured. I knew fear was in my eyes. He chuckled drunkenly. "My wife, the tramp." He suddenly grabbed my by the throat, squeezing me until I was blue. "Y'know, he grunted, " I loved you very dearly, until you made a harlot of yourself." My hands were constricted in his, firmly behind my back. He kissed me, and I cried out shying away. He threw me against the wall, picking up his candlebra again. This was it. I was going to die. A glint of silver caught my eye. It was Erik's rapier, dropped from before. I snatched the weapon, holding it against Raoul's stomach. He chuckled again. "Are you going to kill me, Christine?" He mocked, opening his shirt to bear his chest. " Go ahead. I dare you." Doing nothing to obey this comment, I stood stone still. Laughing like a demon, he raised his bludgeon, preparing to strike me again. Closing my eyes, I stabbed him. It made a hideous splutching sound, like a dagger through a watermelon. As the Vicomte fell to the ground in agony, I stored the sword in my bodice, sprinting for the door.

Sunlight poured through the window. It was dawn, time for Erik to die. Madame Giry suddenly appeared from the door, staring at the writhing Raoul. "You, do this, girl?" She asked pointing at the man on the floor. I nodded. "Good job," she commended, " I never liked him anyway. Sadly, I think he won't die." She motioned toward the mirror. Oh yes, I had forgotten about that one. The mirror receded, and I dashed down the passage with Madame Giry at my heels, out to find my illicit lover.

My eyes suddenly popped open, squinting against the sunlight. Oh, no. It was time. I squirmed under the sand bags, luckily freeing my arms. I then pushed my legs free, undoing the cords quickly. I could hear footsteps to my left. Oddly, there was just a solid wall. My eyes lit up. There was a passage out of here! "Erik!" Somebody called my name. It was Christine. She abruptly burst out of the shadows, racing to free me. Succeeding, She kissed me, then taking me by the hand to the passage from which she came. Madame Giry was waiting. I bowed, ever polite. "Erik, there is no time! We must go! I will help you escape." Her eyes had rage in them, but there was a fright also.

She led us down tunnels I had never known about, breaking through cobwebs and stumbling over rays. There were peepholes every other yard, so I could clearly see that they had found the Viscount and had found me gone as well. The whole building was in uproar. Andre was throwing a temper tantrum, having lost his culprit for the umpteenth time. I could hear Meg cheering. Madame Giry led us into a large cavern, one I had never explored. Two black horse awaited, along with rations and cloaks. I helped Christine onto her horse, then mounting mine. " Thank you, Madame," I murmured courteously. She nodded her consent. She showed us the way out, then vanishing back to he upper levels to aid the search effort. Kicking our horses, Christine and I took off into the rapidly waking city. We were free, but we would have to fight for our lives to get out with each other. Christine and I were finally together to face life. A life that was no longer to be spent alone.


End file.
